


Spots and Bells (and Unnamed Tales)

by jacksgreysays (jacksgreyson)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:39:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6079668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksgreyson/pseuds/jacksgreysays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Loosely related, untitled ficlets originally posted on tumblr.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (2015-11-15)

“Hey,” she says, hand catching your elbow in a gentle grip. You turn to her, a flower towards the sun, attention focused entirely on her. She smiles and you try not to swoon, try not to make a total embarrassment of yourself.

“You were amazing today,” she continues, and you can feel your heart hammering away in your chest, “Thanks, Chat.”

You barely contain the stutter that wants to tangle your tongue, and instead you grin and shoot back, “I’m amazing every day,” so eager to impress her.

She rolls her eyes and lets you go and you know you’ve said the wrong thing so you try again, “But not as amazing as you, my Lady.”

Maybe you only imagine the curl of her lip and the flush of her cheek, but it stays with you even after you split ways.

* * *

School is difficult. Not the classes, no, because you’ve always been a quick learner, but people? Trying not to mess up? That’s tough.

It’s strange because it’s not out of embarrassment–he’s a model, he pretty much has no shame–but it’s… There’s a reason why he likes physics and math best: there’s a correct answer, he just has to use logic to find it. The same cannot be said for human interaction.

When he sees the way Marinette stammers and curls up and runs away, he doesn’t remember what he did wrong. He doesn’t know why she’s so bright and confident around their other classmates, but shrivels up whenever he’s near. He tries not to take it personally, except for how she’s literally only like that around him.

By day, causing anxiety in Marinette, and by night, getting brushed off by Ladybug.

He is one unlucky cat.


	2. (Ancient Egypt AU, 2015-11-16)

There are no ladybugs in Kemet.

So Miriam can’t be entirely blamed when she throws her basket and shrieks, “Demon!” at the red thing flying around her family’s room. Later, when Miriam has calmed down, Tikki explains that she’s a kwami, not a demon.

Miriam still doesn’t quite understand the difference. Magic is something for the nobles or priests and priestesses of the temples–false gods, her elders murmur, so careful and so quiet–and so she does not have much to base her trust on, but she accepts that, for now, Tikki means no harm.

However they are at a crossroads: jewelry, too, is for the higher classes of the kingdom. Miriam’s not going to wear earrings in blatant disregard for her station. The overseers are not kind to slaves who don’t fall in line.

That first night, there are still no ladybugs in Kemet.

* * *

Ahsan is a priest in training of the Temple of Bast. It is an honor to be one of the chosen, so he doesn’t know why he wishes his father had refused. No, he is one of Bast’s children now–he has no father, only a mother.

He’s not unhappy: life at the temple is nice, and the rituals to ensure good and fertile harvest are important to the kingdom. He has a purpose and he knows his duties well; he just feels empty.

Bast is a wise and generous goddess, she must be, Ahsan thinks, to send him an avatar of her will in the form of a black cat. Plagg has an abrasive personality and a near intolerable fondness for fesikh, but it is a small price to pay.

Ahsan is not the first priest of Bast to become a vessel for her power–but he is, undeniably, the strongest.

* * *

Miriam keeps her head down, that is the way of life. Her entire culture, it seems, revolves around keeping her head down. She bites back the urge to scream, “Are we not the children of Jacob, he who wrestled with God?”

It is startling, because she has never been one for confrontation, for conflict. But she has the power to do something now, a small part of her whispers, or she could have the power. If she took up Tikki’s offer, pierced her ears, become more than just herself.

But ultimately, the decision isn’t up to her, not really. She’s never been the kind of person to stand by when someone needs help. Usually, that means adding a chore or two to her workload, but now she can do more. She can be more.

It is fitting that, as Ladybug, she wears red. To her people, red means joy and happiness; for the citizens of Kemet, for her enemies, red is bad luck.

* * *

He still doesn’t quite have a handle on his abilities. The other priests say it is because of his youth, his inexperience–they do not know why Bast has chosen him, but they cannot argue that he has been chosen. No other magician in Kemet can so easily rain destruction. Even if, for Ahsan, it was an accident.

Plagg says it’s because his abilities are bad luck–there is no good magic to be unlocked through control and hard work–but Bast is the protector, a goddess of good fortune. Surely, she wouldn’t bestow one of her children with the powers of misfortune?

Ahsan falters, doubts himself–never the goddess, no, the problem is with him, not her–until he hears of rumors. A red demon frequenting the slave neighborhoods, stopping them from fulfilling their purpose.

Above all, Bast is a goddess of cats–the sacred creatures who protect crops by killing vermin–Ahsan does not need to be able to light a fire or purify water or increase the growth of plants. He just needs to hunt down his goddess’ enemies and destroy them.


	3. (Tower | Princess)

_(Tower)_

“Ready, Princess?” He says, gleaming green eyes and a bright, sharp sickle for a smile. He extends a hand out to you, palms wider and fingers longer than your own–each of them ending with a sharp claw.

He is a nightmare made flesh, sin and misfortune in human form, and yet you are not scared. Not when he looks at you so beseechingly, patiently waiting on the wrong side of your balcony railing, bell around his throat to show he’s tame.

(Are beasts and men ever truly tame?)

Normally, he would not have to ask. Normally, you would already be out there, painting the night sky red with your own brand of justice. But tonight, you are not his lady.

You listen to the murmurs of sound from downstairs. Your parents following their routine, unaware of their daughter being tempted away.

Tonight, you are a Princess escaping your tower.

* * *

* * *

* * *

_(Princess)_

You are Rapunzel with wings, Sleeping Beauty in armor, Snow White with sword and shield. You are a princess and a warrior. 

You are the Belle that tamed the Beast and Red who survived the Wolf. You are Cinderella without a curfew and the Little Mermaid without compromise. You are a lady; you are a miracle.

You do not accept defeat.

“Give him back,” you demand through gritted teeth, tasting the iron and simmering rage of your own blood. You clench your fists. There is no question on whether or not you will get Chat back, only a matter of how many punches it’ll take for that to happen.

For Tikki’s sake, you hope none. But you feel like you could take on an army of akuma even without her magic. It’s not desperation but rather, the confidence that the world will meet your expectations. Or you will forcibly twist it to do so–and with your bare hands at that.

“He doesn’t want to go back,” Hawk Moth says, so still and pristine–frozen and unmarred like prey about to be horrendously slaughtered, “Do you Chat Blanc?”

Between you stands Chat, uniform the same except for the glaringly obvious color change, expression solemn and placid and nothing at all like what you know of him.

“You see, Ladybug? He doesn’t want to go anywhere,” and then Hawk Moth’s face shifts, lip curling and eyes narrowing, “Not so fond of being the outnumbered Miraculous holder, are you?”

You hate like you’ve never done before.

“His name is Chat Noir,” you respond, and you can almost hear Tikki saying it with you, can almost feel her own anger on behalf of her fellow kwami, “And outnumbered doesn’t mean outmatched.”

You are a ladybug–luck and hope incarnate–you are a girl in love, you are a worried friend, you are a heroine on the edge of danger.

You will only accept success.


	4. (2015-12-05)

Marinette is one of the youngest Ladybugs you’ve ever chosen.

It’s worrying.

With your older Ladybugs, you could trust them–they had experience to fall back on, they had lived full lives. You don’t have that with Marinette.

It’s not that you doubt her capabilities, but being Ladybug isn’t safe.

You’ve had Ladybugs die on you before.

It’s not that their lives are somehow worth less than Marinette’s–no, each one of your Ladybugs is precious to you–but you feel less guilty if they’ve lived before you choose them. Before you get them killed.

You hope Marinette won’t follow in their footsteps.

* * *

You are bad luck, plain and simple. Your existence has always been one of misfortune. Danger and death are common enough side effects.

For the most part, you choose Black Cats who know that going in. The ones who don’t mind a little risk–the ones who maybe even want it.

Not suicidal, no, can’t do anything with a suicidal holder. Basic self preservation is necessary to wield that much power without imploding. But a certain recklessness helps. 

A certain thrill-seeking tendency that makes a normal human choose to be a bearer of bad luck.

Adrien is… different.

If you were the kind of kwami to feel guilt, you might over your chosen holder this time, but at the same time, well. Maybe you wouldn’t.

Adrien was imprisoned–in a house, by his father’s expectations, by loneliness–and maybe you took advantage of that. But he is noble, optimistic, adventurous–a hero in one form or another. And maybe you took advantage of that, too, but maybe you’re just helping each other.

It’s a dangerous world out there, after all.


End file.
